


Un Poco Milagro

by Catherine_Nightingale



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Spanish, Cheesy, Deus Ex Machina, Don't Examine This Too Closely, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Smoking, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Unrequited Crush, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-28 10:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13269669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catherine_Nightingale/pseuds/Catherine_Nightingale
Summary: Somewhere in the distance Javi can hear the muffled sounds of a street party, with uptempo music and laughter, and smirks to himself. It feels like a veil separates him from both celebrations, the same way it did before, and no one can get through it, no one can reach him.No one, except Steve Murphy.





	Un Poco Milagro

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I took it down, but now I'm putting it back up.

Shouts of “Merry Christmas!” fill the room. The party at the DEA headquarters is in its prime -everyone is just tipsy and overly friendly enough to party without remorse, but not drunk enough to make it ugly.

“ _Feliz Navidad,_ ” says Javi to himself, holding up his glass of whiskey. The words fall from his tongue flat and meaningless. He’s not used to actually celebrating Christmas with colleagues, never was a party man, but the “kids” wanted him in anyway. During the Escobar times, he usually avoided them altogether or joined Carrillo and his _muchachos_ , with Murphy tagging along.

Javi winces at the last thought and puts the glass down with a little too much force, trying to steer his thoughts in a less dangerous direction. Murphy is gone, he tells himself sternly. Murphy is home, in Miami, with his wife, and his kid, and Murphy fucking deserves it.

God, he needs more whiskey.

And a smoke.

Javier gets up, pulling on his jacket, and slips out of the room unnoticed. Outside, on the parking lot, a gust of cool wind washes over his face like a caress, ruffles his hair and clears his thoughts a bit. Javi breathes a lungful of humid air and closes his eyes for a moment, rummaging through his pockets. Somewhere in the distance Javi can hear the muffled sounds of a street party, with uptempo music and laughter, and smirks to himself. It feels like a veil separates him from both celebrations, the same way it did before, and no one can get through it, no one can reach him.

No one, except Steve Murphy.

Javi tiredly rubs the bridge of his nose and, sighing, lights up a cigarette. At first, Steve was just another DEA agent, just Murphy. Murphy the “Fresh Meat”, Murphy the stupid gringo, Murphy the stubborn asshole, Murphy the smartass, Murphy the walking and talking bright-eyed dedication…

He doesn’t remember, how it happened, doesn’t know how he missed it, but somewhere between the two of them getting their first after-raid beer together and the day his own mistake led Steve to be abducted by the Cali cartel, Murphy became Steve and managed to worm his way into Javier’s heart, like a snake, curling snuggly somewhere behind the ribcage, leaving less room for Peña to breathe.

And Javi fell for him, so fast, that when he noticed what was going on, it was too late, and he was left standing there, in the middle of the corridor, watching Steve go, feeling like his heart was just ripped out of his chest and with something he was too afraid to name forming in its place.

He never acted on it, though, and how could he? Steve was (and is) married, and married happily, and Javi for all his asshole behavior is no jerk. Also, Murphy certainly would never love him back, so Javi just resigned himself to getting as much as he could, as much as Steve was willing to give him, with no expectations of something more. And it worked for a bit until shit went down completely.

Javier throws away the cigarette stub and lights another one, looking at the night sky. He thought, time away from Steve would help, would cure him of this stupid feeling of being torn apart by the sheer fact that Steve is not there anymore, never even called him because of it, but now, almost a year after, all he can see when he closes his eyes is…

Crystal, icy-blue eyes, always so full of emotion, always so tired, collecting wariness in them over the years. The smells of tobacco, and alcohol, and cologne, and some babyish sunscreen coming from the fair, freckled skin. Long fingers, holding an unlit cigarette. The curve of full lips. Steve.

Javier lets his eyes fall closed, lets the picture of his former partner come into focus. He misses him, not actively, but it’s like a phantom ache from a severed limb - it’s always there. It’s never going away.

Sometimes he wishes his imagination was wild enough to pretend Steve is here.

The sound of footsteps reaches Javi’s ears just as he is lighting up the third cigarette - someone is crossing the parking lot. Footsteps come a bit closer and then stop abruptly.

“Javi!” softly exclaims a familiar voice, and it goes right into Javier’s heart, like a spear. He smirks, battling a sudden shiver, and shakes his head - speak of the devil, indeed. “That’s the last place I thought I’d find you in, I mean, I don’t remember you being a big fan of parties, man.”

Steve’s imaginary voice sounds so real, so clear, with the right nonchalant tone, and drawl, delivering that slightly rushed explanation and the barely closed wound in Javi’s chest reopens. He wishes it could be real, wishes it so bloody much.

“I still ain’t,” Javi answers trying to sound even, careful to keep his eyes closed. If he opens them, that bout of hallucination will surely end and he is not ready for it to.

“Whatcha doing?” asks Steve’s voice incredulously, just the way Javi remembers it, and this is both wonderful and painful, and he feels a lump forming in his throat. He longed for this conversation for so long, and now he isn't sure how to continue it.

“Smoking,” Javier shrugs and inhales a lungful of smoke, slowly exhaling it through the nose to calm himself down.

“I can see that,” Steve’s voice gets that irritated pitch Javi loved to tease him about because it was hilarious - Steve getting all worked up over being treated like an idiot. “Why are you smoking with your eyes closed?”

Well, he’ll be better off if he stops this farce now before it gets unhealthy. More unhealthy, than it is now, anyway.

“No reason,” Javier says, opening his eyes, pretty sure he’ll be alone in the parking lot.

Imaginary Steve stands not ten feet away from him, looking at him with a soft expression, the one that Javi never really understood, the one that made and makes his features look boyish, and Javier stares, unable to look away.

“You’re still here,” he blurts out, unthinking, and imaginary Steve’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Yeah, I just got here,” he says carefully and tilts his head to the side. “Javi, are you okay?”

“Never better,” Javier replies automatically, flicking the stub away, and imaginary Steve frowns.

“Doesn’t look like it, man,” he shakes his head and steps closer, lifting his hand, and Javi is one hundred percent sure he won’t feel the touch.

Instead, long rough fingers briefly caress his cheek and slide up his temple, leaving a burning trace in their wake.

“You’ve been working yourself into the ground while I've been away, haven't you?” Steve huffs, and his warm breath ghosts over Javi’s face, and that’s when it strikes him.

Javier’s hand shoots up to grab at Steve’s shoulder, and it doesn’t turn into smoke under the touch, it stays warm, and solid, and moving, muscles flexing, and Javi can barely believe it.

“You are really here,” he says slowly. “Really, really here.”

“Of course I am,” Steve snorts, but Javi is not listening to him.

“Why are you here? It’s Christmas, shouldn’t you be with your family?” he asks, searching Steve’s face. It has to be a trick, somehow, because Steve has no reason to come all the way down to Colombia.  
“We had a nice outing yesterday,” Steve replies offhandedly and smiles at Javi, and it’s a bit crooked, sly, just the way Javi loves it, and his heart constricts painfully. “But I've decided that tonight my place is here.”

Steve’s hand slides down to Javi’s neck and the contact almost make Javi jump out of his skin. It takes all his resolve to just stay in place and focus on anything but Steve’s lips inches away from his own.

“Why?” is all he manages, but it’s enough, and Steve gives him another one of his smiles.

“You’re here,” he says simply, and leans down, bringing Javi closer.

The kiss is brief, mostly just brushing of lips, but it’s enough to send Javier’s head reeling, because it’s Steve kissing him, and he is not sure he believes it still.

“I need to tell you something,” Steve suddenly says, letting go of Javi’s lips, and clears his throat before continuing in Spanish. “ _Javi, me enamoré de ti, y es hora de que haga algo al respecto._ ”

He says it in a rush, as if afraid that he will forget how to say it’s right, and Javi is torn between exasperation and fondness until the meaning of Steve’s words reaches him, and his mouth goes dry. He tries to say something, but his response is cut off by the loud, thundering cracks, making both of them startle and jump apart, ready to take cover, until the sky lights up in the different colors, revealing the true origins of the sound.

“Fireworks,” Steve says and shakes his head, laughing. “Fucking fireworks. Should’ve known. _Feliz Navidad_ , I guess.”

“ _Feliz Navidad,_ ” replies Javi and looks at Steve sharply. “That... thing you've said..."

"What about it?" Steve's tone is nonchalant, but his posture becomes tense, like he's readying himself for a fight. 

"Did you mean what you've said?” Javier asks in return, eyeing him carefully.

“Every word,” Steve looks at him earnestly and defiantly at the same time, squaring his shoulders, and Javi suddenly realizes, that Steve’s just as scared and unsure as him, that he came down here on an off chance his feelings might be returned, and he makes a decision, stepping closer to Steve.

“Then,” Javi says, leaning into his personal space and looking into tired, crystal icy-blue eyes. _“Bésame otra vez._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Translations!  
> 1\. Un Poco Milagro - A Little Miracle  
> 2\. Feliz Navidad - Merry Christmas.  
> 3\. Muchachos - Boys.  
> 4\. Javi, me enamoré de ti, y es hora de que haga algo al respecto - Javi, I fell in love with  
> you, and it's time for me to do something about it.  
> 5\. Bésame otra vez - Kiss me again


End file.
